


Blood and Shadows

by HughMungas69



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dawnguard DLC, Eventual Smut, F/F, I’m bad at tagging, Nightingale Dragonborn, Thief’s guild Dragonborn, Who isn’t?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HughMungas69/pseuds/HughMungas69
Summary: Varlyn is a simple woman.If it’s valuable, she wants it. If it’s trying to kill her, she’ll kill it first. If a beautiful woman just so happens to fall straight into her arms, she’s not sleeping alone.So what happens if that woman is a creature of the night that needs blood to live, is the daughter to the most powerful living vampire, and an integral part of an apocalyptic prophecy?This. This shit happens.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Serana
Kudos: 138





	Blood and Shadows

The Ratway lived up to its name as the tiny balls of fur and disease brazenly savaged in the tight and dirty spaces. The small creatures squeaked loudly before frantically scurrying into the nearest hole at the sound of footsteps. By the time Isran and Tolan neared their end goal the rodents could only be heard.

“Are you sure about this Isran?” Tolan asked as the pair trudged through the mud and dirty water. “I understand these are dire times but this is the Thieves Guild we’re talking about. All they care about is gold, the vampires need only throw a purse at them and they’re as good as enthralled.” The aged nord stated.

“We’ve come this far haven’t we?” The hardened red guard answered in his rough voice. “We won’t have to worry about being outbid. The bloodsuckers are too arrogant to consider working with anyone but themselves. It’s a risk to trust them, but it’d mean dooming Skyrim if we don’t.” The conversation was ended by Isran opening a wooden door which was just as dirtied and rotten as everything else in the Riften sewers.

“So this is the Ragged Flagon.” Isran said aloud as his brown eyes scanned the room. “What a shithole.” He added under his breath. While the walls and floor weren’t caked in the same filth and grime as the rest of the sewers were, it was still a sewer, and the same pungent smell from outside was still present. There was a collection of crates and wooden tables in the large room, even what looked like a well kept bar, and a floating island in the middle of the room where the water flowed through.

“Indeed it is lads.” The two men both snapped to the voice belonging to a nord with red hair standing next to said bar. He wore black leather armour adorned with pouches and pockets all across the torso and a black leather hood. “Maven Black-Briar told me to expect a redguard and a Vigilant of Stendar. I thought she was pullin’ my leg, but then you two lads showed up. But never mind all that, you’re clients now.” The nords tone was artificially warm, and almost sickeningly sweet. He walked closer, claiming a seat at the nearest table with two more opposite to him.

The two men accepted their seats before he started talking again in his odd accent. “Let's not be strangers lads, I’m Brynjolf, second in charge of the thieves guild. I’m sure we can come to an agreement on price for whatever service you need.”

“Figures.” Isran muttered nearly inaudibly. “The name’s Isran, I’m the leader of the Dawnguard. And this is Tolan, he’s one of the few remaining Vigilants of Stendar.”

“Ahhh, there’s been quite some talk about your lot here in Riften. Valiant vampire hunters, risking their lives for all of Skyrim. And what exactly is it a couple fine and honorable men such as yourselves need from lowly thieves like us?” Every word from the man’s mouth sounded like a sales pitch, like a merchant desperate to earn a customer. Isran and Tolan looked at each other, a silent conversation on who should say what.

“We need you to retrieve an artifact from Dimhollow crypt.” Tolan said. “A fellow Vigilant, Brother Adalvald was investigating it. He believed there was something inside of great importance to the vampires. Evidently he was right. Because…” The aged nord’s gaze dropped to the wooden table top. When it returned to Brynjolf’s own gaze, his eyes glimmered with pain and regret. “The damn monsters burned the Hall Of Vigilants to the ground to get his journals. Almost the entire order in Skyrim is dead because of those beasts, and because we didn’t listen to Isran.”

“A sad story, one that I’m sorry you’re able to tell.” Brynjolf offered, though it was fairly apparent it was nothing more than a professional courtesy. 

“The bloodsuckers have no doubt begun investigating the crypt for themselves. It’s almost a guarantee you’ll run into them at this point.” Brynjolf grimaced as he arched his back in his chair.

“Sounds like dangerous work.” He began, noticeably having ditched the friendly shopkeep act for something more neutral. “Nothing we can’t handle of course, but you’ll have to take it up with the boss. I don’t have the authority to accept contracts as high risk as what your askin’.” Brynjolf nodded behind the two other men who promptly turned around. Despite his previous scan of the room Isran had somehow missed the figure standing partially in the shadows.

Based on their figure, they were definitely female. Apart from that, Isran couldn’t spot any sort of details hinting at their identity. Every inch of her skin was covered in armour. The armour itself was ornate and intricate, made of various tints of grey leather with a crest of what seemed like a bird reaching up to the moon on its chest. Her face was hidden behind a cowl and cloak, only a darkened glint of her eyes peeking out. Isran’s mid pondered how he’d managed to miss them, he was sure he’d covered every corner of the room. The woman stalked closer, her gate similar to a sabercat with its eyes on the kill.

“I want specifics,” the woman stated, colder than a Windhelm storm. “Where exactly is this crypt? What do you know about these vampires we’ll be dealing with?”

“We don’t know much, Brother Adavald was the expert and his journals were stolen in the attack.” Tolan answered. “He did share some of his findings with me though. The crypt is about half a days ride west of Morthal, the entrance rests at the end of a path up the mountain. Not even he found out much, but these vampires are somehow linked to the name ‘Volkihar’.”

“Likely the clan name of whoever is after what’s inside this crypt.” A moment passed as everyone sat in silence. The woman gave an aura of thought, as if it were a substitute for her lack of visible expression. “I’ll be blunt. 5000 septims.”

“May as well take my leg while you’re at it!” Tolan exclaimed jolting up from his chair to scowl at the master thief. Isran was quick to grab him by the wrist and send a defusing glare up at his former ‘brother’. “P-Pardon me. Stopping these vampires is deeply personal to me. Paying someone else to do it, just feels wrong...”

“Too bad.” The words shot from the criminal’s mouth like arrows and pierced Tolan just as such. “That’s what you agreed to when you decided to come to us for help. You’re asking us to break into an uncharted crypt that you expect to be crawling with an ancient vampire clan that was strong enough to wipe out the Vigilants Of Stendarr. 5000 is a generous asking price.”

The woman turned her head to Isran and put out a hand to the fellow guild leader. “Deal?” She asked evenly. It hardly took the bearded man a heartbeat to offer his hand in turn and shake.

“Deal.” Something in those tiny glinting suggestions of eyes told Isran she was smirking.

* * *

  
  


Varlyn sighed as she laid back on her bed, pulling down her hood and mask. It had been a long day and it certainly didn’t look like tomorrow would be any shorter.

“You don’t have to do it by yourself y’know.” Brynjolf jabbed in his friendly way from the next bed over. “Sometimes I think you’ve forgotten that Karliah and I were right beside you fighting through that dwemer ruin when we were hunting after Mercer.”

“I distinctly remember you not being ‘right beside me’ when said backstabbing ass was trying to stab me in the chest. Guess he got bored aiming for the back.” She retorted playfully, leaning up on her elbows.

“That’s hardly fair.” He answered whilst grinning like a boy in a man’s skin. “I won’t pretend like I know why you try and shoulder everything for us. But this guild is basically a family, you’re not on your own.” The man’s comforting words only made Varlyn chuckle at the irony of them.

“When did this turn into soul searching?” She asked playfully. It was a glaring hint to Brynjolf to drop the subject, a hint he promptly ignored onboard. “I’ve looted plenty of crypts before, I’ll be fine.”

“Plenty of crypts crawling with vampires?” The concern was starting to seep through his voice. “You should at least take Karliah with you, she’s second best in the guild only to you.”

“We both know she’s better suited for stealth, which is useless against those damn things unless you’re carrying a small mound of mammoth shit to cover your scent-”

“Just take someone!” Brynjolf snapped. His face pulled and twisted in a scowl. “Take Vex, or Delvin, or even that numbskull Vipir-”

“And get them killed?!” Varlyn shouted back at her nord friend cutting him off. “Like it or not the others don’t have the same experience with direct combat or navigating crypts as I do! I’d steal the Skeleton Key right from under Nocturnal’s nose before I lead anyone in this family into a death sentence like that!” There was a long moment of silence between the two children of shadows where they just stared at each other stone faced. Brynjolf was the first to crack, turning his gaze to the floor.

Varlyn huffed loudly and let herself fall back into the soft material of her bed. “I get that you’re trying to look out for me, but the fact stands that I’m the best prepared for the job. If I force someone else to tag along it could kill us both.” Brynjolf sighed in defeat. He never could talk his shadow sister out of going lone wolf on exceedingly dangerous jobs.

“I hear ya’ boss. Just try not to die, I’m not sure Vex is ready to be a Nightingale to fill your shoes.” The playful edge was back in his voice making Varlyn snort.

“No one will ever fill the shoes I’ll leave behind,” Varlyn replied in a similarly playful tone. “I certainly don’t intend on taking them off any time soon. Now piss off, I’ve got a long ride and a need for beauty sleep.” Brynjolf scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“‘Cause we wouldn’t want you looking anything but your best fighting soulless creatures of the night,” he remarked. With a lazy middle finger Varlyn was finally left in peace to get some shut eye. It would take about a week to get to Morthal, she was looking at a fortnight in riding and camping. Then of course there were the vampires. That was just fun waiting to happen. Not even Nocturnal’s tricks and luck would be able to hide her from the bloodsuckers. Her best bet would be speed and killing efficiency.

_ ‘Guess I don’t really have room to complain, I’m the one that accepted the job and refused any help _ .  _ At least if I die I finally figure out which Daedric Prince gets my soul.’ _

Sleep soon overcame her as Varlyn’s mind was swept away. She hadn’t had dreams in a long time, only a single moment where the world didn’t feel like it was even there. A single moment of pitch black, a taste of what would one day be her fate.

* * *

  
  


Even as the icy mountain wind pelted Varlyn’s whole body she didn’t shiver. She’d lived in Skyrim her whole life, the cold was her oldest friend. Not to mention the multiple layers of dark enchanted leather. Even this was but a minor chill to her, nowhere near the truly unforgiving winter storms. 

Igor was a true beast of burden. A loyal collection of red fur and bulging muscles that’d carried her far and wide. The mammoth of a horse slowly sauntered through the fresh snow like tall summer grass. This was nothing for the beast. Soon the thief arrived at her destination. The crypts mouth hung open waiting to swallow her whole. The chilling winds howled and hollered as they spiraled and echoed down its throat. 

Varlyn dismounted and led Igor to a nearby tree and tied his reins around the hardy wood trunk. She knelt to the ground and searched through a medium sized pouch. Her arm sank nearly to her shoulder inside the leather container. No amount of appraisal from the guild's contacts had gotten her any closer to figuring out how in Nocturnal's name the bag worked but she wasn’t going to complain so long as it did just that.

“Come on… Gotcha!” Varlyn pulled out a one handed sword and its sheathe. Two swords on her hips, potions at the ready she set off into the gaping maw of the crypt.

Beyond the initial abyss lied a large open room and voices that made Varlyn’s space slow. In a large enough space like this she could at least eavesdrop on the vampires. 

“...-thought we taught them enough of a lesson at their hall,” came a male voice dripping in snark. 

“He was an even greater fool than the rest, either that or desperate enough to join his brothers that he’d come here alone,” answered a female voice. From this distance Varlyn could make out the figures of three people and what looked like a dog. Maintaining a low profile she crept closer and quickly spotted more details. The two talking were vampires, their orange eyes cast down onto the body of Tolan, wide eyed and sprawled on the ground in his own blood. Further back and close to a small structure was a thrall, clad only in furs.

A plan formed in the nightingale’s head as she crept closer still, hiding behind a stone pillar but definitely in range to be detected. The female vampire sniffed loudly and spun towards the scent. Her footsteps echoed in the open chamber as she stalked towards the pillar. A predator ready to slaughter it’s prey. Only now the prey stood a chance.

In a flash Varlyn appeared from behind the stone mass and thrust with the sword in her left hand. The golden mental dripped red with blood that hissed as it shot straight out the back of the vampires neck. A look of shock moulded itself on her elven face as she tried to gasp around the weapon lodged in her throat. A brilliant light in the circular crossguard pulsed and the burning in her flesh rose to an agonising roast.

Varlyn quickly withdrew Dawnbreaker and thrusted with her other sword through the vampire's stomach. She could feel her very life force flow through the sword and into her. The vampire dropped dead after Varlyn dislodged her other sword, blood soaking the floor and her weapons.

The other vampire and the thrall both stood stock still gaping at the sight. The death hound didn’t have the capacity for such complex things. It’s mouth opened wide as it leapt at the dual wield fighter. With a backhanded slash Varlyn split the beats side open in a searing wound and threw it towards the other vampire. He snapped out of his stupor to sidestep the hurled corpse.

A beastal growl bubbled from the depths of his scowling mouth. “You will die here foolish mort-AHHHHH!” His threats were caught off by the corpse of the death bound at his side erupting in a torrent of blue and orange flames, blasting him off a ledge. He landed with a loud  _ snap  _ as his neck bent at an angle it was not meant to. The only remaining enemy was the thrall who was blindly rushing toward Varlyn. She ducked under his wild war axe swing, slashing him across the stomach. He fell with a wet squelch from the hanging entrails and viscera.

The guild master breathed a sigh of relief now that the immediate dangers had been taken care of.  _ ‘I was expecting worse, but I still have to be careful. I can’t rely on all of them being this arrogant.’ _

* * *

  
  


Turns out apparently she could.

“How can this be?! You’re nothing but a filthy mortal!” Lokil’s incessant screeching was getting tiresome. The gaping cut across his chest was slowly trying to seal itself.

“I gotta give it to you, as bullshit as your superiority complex is, you can at least heal better than your friends.” Lokil snarled as he tried taking a step forward. The stab to the undead nord’s thigh wasn’t healed properly leaving him to limp.

“Your days are numbered worm! Even if you kill me here you will never stop Lord Harkon! The world will never know the light of day again, then nothing will stand between us and our rightful place!” Varlyn chuckled as she approached the wounded vampire, his body tensing.

“I hardly had to say a thing and you go spilling your master plan? I guess Lady Luck really is on my side if your boss sent a moron like you.  _ WULD! _ ” The word of power rang out like thunder as Varlyn shot mere inches in front of Lokil and stabbed him through the mouth. He finally died as the red shimmer of his essence flickered across her silver blade.

“Be a dear and tell Molag Bal to fuck himself for me.” Varlyn watched as Lokil fell backwards, sliding off her blade. “This was easier than I expected.” Well it wasn’t easy, she still had to fight through dozens of draugr, vampires, and the single biggest frostbite spider she’d ever seen. All that strung together left her muscles tired, her joints overworked and her caution abandoned. At this point she just wanted to find whatever the fuck was in here an go home.

The tired thief sauntered across a bridge to a large platform. Multiple braziers sat on carved channels in the floor, all centred around a large pedestal topped by what seemed to be a rusted button. It seemed so trivial, push the button, cause something on the platform to shift, find the treasure, batta bing batta boom all done. That vague sequence of events went straight out a window when upon contact a large metal spike shot up.

“AHHH FUCKER!!!”, Varlyn cursed. The spike went straight through her hand, the pain of bones and muscles shifting around the foreign object made her knees buckle. The now blood soaked spike retracted back into the pedestal, a purple almost ethereal ring of fire encircling it and branching down one of the channels. Varlyn glances at her wound, wincing as the throbbing pain spiked when looked at. She reached into her bottomless bag and instantly pulled out a small potion of healing. She chugged the bitter fluid down in an instant and groaned at her hand mended itself back together.

With the hole sealed and the pain reduced to a dull throb the cloaked woman could finally pay attention to the purple flames. She quickly proved herself right as her hand didn’t burn when amungs the fire. The branch from the centre ring flowed straight passed a brazier but directly along one of the channels. Varlyn got the idea and pushed the braised slightly which to her surprise slid mechanically right into the end of the branch. Again the fire split and wound down the channels. From there the ‘puzzle’ only took the thief a few minutes to complete.

The whole chamber shook as the chain was completed. Varlyn watched the pedestal rise from the ground. It was now apparent the pedestal was actually a coffin. The extended part of the crypt that the woman found herself in was evidently old, even older than any Nordic tomb she’d seen. That combined with a lack of shits she had to give anymore was probably why Varlyn didn’t even have her swords drawn as the front of the coffin slide open.

Varlyn was expecting there to be a pile of dust and bones probably clutching some relic that would give meaning to all the fighting and bullshit that got her here. What she was not expecting was a woman who didn’t look a day over 20. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or a lapse in judgment, but before anything else Varlyn _ had  _ to appreciate the sight of her.

Her skin was paler than the mountain snow the master criminal had seen on her many jobs, her ornate red dress was something that befitted royalty and did her figure plenty of justice. And despite the fact she just came out of a coffin, her hair in its elaborate braid looked silky to the touch. Before she knew what was happening Varlyn’s arms clung tightly to the woman as she tumbled out of her resting place and straight into her chest. 

Any logical parts in her brain were about ready to die at her blatant stupidity. At how she ignored every single detail such as the woman apparently being what the vampires were after, or the fact she looked young despite being entombed in the single oldest crypt she’d ever seen, or how she was cold to the touch,  _ or  _ how she wasn’t even  _ breathing  _ but was clearly stirring back to life. 

For a while her breath hitched. The woman’s eyes had cracked open and slid around in their sockets, unfocused and dazed. Until finally the glowing orange orbs settled on the slight glint under her hood. As stupid- no-  _ fucking moronic  _ as it was, the wrong word flashed through her mind. It should’ve been something like ‘fight’, ‘run’ or  _ anything  _ of that nature.

Not. Fucking.  _ ‘Beautiful’ _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Well that’s the first chapter done. If everything goes right this should be around 10-13 chapters. Leave a comment if you want, kudos if you like and I’ll see you later.


End file.
